Not a Fish

New address. (actually my old blogger site)

I don’t have much to say. No, actually I do have one or two things to say, but I’m really busy. I’m working hard and when I get home I’m too tired for writing.

But anyway, we got this mail from google that some sort of undesirables had infiltrated this site or something and contaminated it. Can’t be bothered to do anyhting about it right now, so I’ll be moving back to my old address for a while.

Don’t promise to write any more there, but you never know. I do want to tell you about something funny I noticed when reading this book last Saturday.

I can probably still dance that LOL

The immortal Aris San.

And this is Moti Giladi imitating him. Precious.

When I was young we were far too snooty to listen to this stuff. Our loss.

I find I’ve missed nothing.

By far the most interesting thing that happened last month was Maya Buskila’s goodlooking ex-boyfriend (he looks like a bastard, but he turned out to be a surprisingly nice guy) beating the insufferable but highly interesting (and amusing) Menahem Ben in Big Brother. (oh, look who took Ben’s photo in that link - Yair Lapid’s pretty wife).

Oh here’s Shimi Tavori, who came second. This is an old clip of course.

Here’s what he looks like now.

I find myself going back to all the usual haunts and being bored silly. Antisemitism, Antizionism. Nazi Israel, Durban, Obama doing all the right things. Obama doing all the wrong things. Yawn yawn.

I’m far more interested what pictures to acquire to decorate the walls of my lovely new bedroom, and how can I do this adequately without spending too much money.

Forgive my latest disappearing act. We’re moving apartment on the 27th. We decided to move on the last weekend in February, when the rain flooded our bedroom once too many (It literally never rains in Israel. Only pours). Then we had to find a suitable place. Took the third place we saw, which happened to be in the next building. Now I’m packing.

Haven’t opened a book all month, haven’t even glanced at a newspaper, not to mention a blog. I’m currently hooked on the local celebrity version of Big Brother. That’s my way to wind down. It finishes at the end of the month, so that’s just perfect. Move over, Big Brother over, I’ll get back to normal life, hopefully, but with a slightly better view from the living room window.

Who cleaned the Holy of Holies in the Temple?

I mean really cleaned it, gave it a good scrub, not just a bit of ritual brush and crumb stuff?

I find this to be a very central question. It never fails to cross my mind whenever anyone mentions the Holy of Holies. Bish, on the other hand, claims the thought has never even crossed his mind. Men!

As we know, no one was allowed to enter the Holy of Holies, except the high priest, who entered once a year on Yom Kippur. Anyone else trying to enter, or even the high priest at the wrong time, would immediately be struck down by lightening. The fear of the Holy of Holies was so great that even when the high priest went in, he went in with a bell and a piece of rope tied round him. If he was found unworthy by God, and was struck down dead, the bell would stop ringing, and they would pull his body out with the rope.

Now I hardly think the high priest would go in with a mop and a bucket, so he could give the place a good once over, (although I do believe part of the ceremony included brushing out the ashes of the fire he lit there earlier in the day). First of all, it was Yom Kippur, for goodness sake. Secondly, he went in amidst much pomp and ceremony, with everyone who was anyone looking on - not very nice to go in with your rubber gloves on.

What this means is that in between construction, renovation and destruction, for hundreds of years at a time, no one actually cleaned the Holy of Holies.

So I’ve had this image in my mind, like forever, of layers and layers of dust, cobwebs, creepy crawlies, mildew peeling the plaster off the dark walls, not to mention congealed blood splattered everywhere from many years of Yom Kippur ritual sacrifices.

Seriously creepy. Indiana Jones falling into a pit of snakes creepy.

(Mind you, it wouldn’t be plaster on the walls, would it? It would be gold and wood.)

Just thought I’d bring it up, seeing as this week’s parsha deals literally with the nuts and bolts of the spiritual life of our ancestors, the ancient Israelites.

Maybe the angels cleaned it.

Meir Ariel. Sadly missed.

We learnt this in my Yiddish class (this was before blogging). I only lasted a few months but it was a lovely few months.

Words are by Itzik Manger, music by P. Laskovsky, sung by Yfim Chorney. I’m not sure how to translate the name of the animator, sorry.

Another must read.